Grope for Moist Souvenirs in the Basement

The traditional five slowest days of the Blegsylvanian year start today, I've a bleggalgaze, as in not just *this* blag, it's important not to post bleggalgazes at any time but especially when I *want* to, and (update) I want to, though I will say current plans do not include compulsory cursing at Democrats in multiple variations of What Did You Fucking Expect from Motherfucking Neoliberal Corporate Warmongers, though of course I do today and will 

Also too: Last reminder that between blooger and me a blogroll got eliminated, there is a new one below Doctor Sevrin, Also too, I know I didn't remember everyone offed in the elimination, I've added the few I do, and there're totally new places to visit too, if I accidentally killed you please let me know. 

Also too, the house to our right has two new kittens, the woman who owns the house rents out rooms to people in their twenties, maskless people come and go (peaceably, quietly, this is not a complaint about loud parties until three in the morning), dozens of maskless people hold and cuddle and breathe on these kittens and these kittens immediately knew I am a cat-whisperer and want to be my buddy, they run to tell me every time I leave the house, I talk to them, don't touch them not out of fear for my health but by the request of loved ones and out of respect for the health of said loved ones, so damn, but here's *Your* Thanksgiving Olive loaf

• Shithole oligarchy
• Yes, global financial crises inevitably reinforce capitalism
• I can't imagine I could if I *wanted* to stop barking at our shitlords (which is why I want want to stop compulsively cursing at motherfucking Democrats who are only doing their job)
• Hillary approves
• Centrist Democrats *are* right-wing
• The wound that never heals: Lacan meets Trump
• Scapegoating to unity
• The bullshit whiteness of the hillbilly
• Mad MAGA men
• Olive, I should write an olivegaze
• I did not know of Johannes Göransson until yesterday, not saying it's love, saying I climbed two flights of stairs from the floor of the office I type this sentence and found one of two collections Göransson supposedly owned and in stacks by the Library, not saying it's love but it's a one night stand at least
• UPDATE! 2020 November 27
  

 

DEAR TOURISTS

Johannes Göransson

Dear Tourists,

You can grope for moist souvenirs in the basement,

but you'll need patience

because nobody down there will warn you about the floor.

In the street you'll find squirrels; on my scalp, bumps.

If you want proof for the folks back home that you've surged

like a seagull, print your name and number in the bathroom.

If you want a seagull for a pet, talk to my therapist.

If you find her, tell me where she lives, and where her daughter

goes to school. If you want a piece of me, suck my dick.

If you want to sell trips to the general public, take my pulse

or my coffee-table picture-books about Italy.

If there's a house in the trees, throw up a hammer

and see what falls down. The bleeding kid isn't

the best prize and you can't return it, so be careful where

you walk when you've had a few.

If there's a nettle between your shoulder blades

and you're having trouble breathing, tell the teacher,

but don't tell her it was me cause it wasn't.

I was just watching, maybe even laughing at your gurgling sounds.

That incident belongs to somebody else's amusement park.

I don't ever want to see it again on this side of the blunt tracks.